Wildcard
by BobBQ
Summary: With the right partners, the Ashikabi of the North was a force to reckon with. With the right allies, he was unstoppable.
1. The End of the Beginning

**Author's note: **After two years of working almost exclusively with a gritty radioactive post-Soviet setting, I've realized I'm in dire need of a change of scenery. You can thank (or blame) In a Quandary's _The Sleeping Schedule_ for motivating me to catch up on this series and dust off some old ideas. The new story differs a bit from my usual style in that it diverts the original canon, instead of running parallel or subsequent to it, and doesn't rely on all the protagonists being ace gunslingers.

As this is a side project, updates may be sluggish unless there's a massive outpouring of reader interest. The plot is fairly straightforward by my standards, however, so there's a better than average chance I'll actually finish it. To start us off, here's a cold opening in which very little is properly explained – enjoy!

* * *

_Wildcard_

_Act 0: The End of the Beginning_

They were coming in force this time.

Homura counted five sekirei bounding across the rooftops and two more at street level. Briefly she worried the plan might be compromised, but the incursion's vanguard blew past her concealed vantage point without slowing. Uzume in her veiled guise led the pack, flanked by a pair Homura remembered from the night of her own traumatic winging – Oriha and Katsuragi. The couple in back were new to these parts: Sai and Shi, if the sentry was matching the right names to the faces she'd studied in Matsu's training sessions.

She didn't immediately recognize the pair on the street. One had blond hair done up in a knot and wore a sleeved gymnast's leotard. The other was a curly brunette in a garishly colored schoolgirl's uniform. Each was accompanied by a nervous looking young man, suggesting they were from Higa's collection of vassals. Perhaps Homura's own ashikabi had been correct in predicting their opponent might rely more on his reserves of cannon fodder after the outcome of their last engagement. No matter, if these were all the rich bastard – her ashikabi's words – had sent.

The roof-jumpers descended. Higa's sekirei split off to either side, moving to block the ends of the street. Uzume stood still, only moving once the vassals caught up with her. She headed directly to the front gate, no doubt intent on ending this as fast as she could. Homura quickly checked the placement of the enemy blocking detachments – her ashikabi's words again – and the positions of friendly forces. So far, so good.

Uzume was five paces from the gate to Izumo House when a figure stepped out of it. The rogue sekirei and her escorts halted at once. If they feared it was the one person they absolutely could not afford to meet here and now, they feared in vain: Asama Miya would never be seen wearing a windbreaker, and the hair under the lip of the army helmet was jet black in color.

"Hanako." Homura couldn't see Uzume's face clearly from this angle, but she picked up the renegade's wary voice clear enough. "Did Sahashi-chan send you out to speak for him?"

"Ah, no." Under other circumstances, the fire sekirei might laugh at the identical expressions the vassals adopted when they heard the gatekeeper's accent. "Minato-kun went away on an errand. The landlady's gone too, but you knew that."

"Yeah..." Uzume glanced about, though she gave no sign of noticing Homura or the others. "I guess you know why I'm here, huh?"

Hanako nodded. "You can forget about the jinki-thingy. It's been removed."

"I can't just take your word for it. You understand, right?" Uzume started to advance again. "So please, move aside."

"Nuh-uh." The woman in the helmet wagged a finger. "Violence is forbidden in Izumo House, after all." With her other hand, she took a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her jacket. "We were hoping you wouldn't get here before Minato-kun came back, but he left a message just in case."

As she came forward to hand it over, there was a yell from the far end of the street. "Aaah!" shouted Sai. "I know who that is! It's the sansei ashikabi that Hi – that Master's angry at! Take her out, Number Ten!"

Homura had to roll her eyes at the enemy's carelessness. If they didn't already know it, Sai would have just confirmed who was behind this raid. The outburst drew alarm from the loudmouth's companion as well. "Sacchan, we mustn't do that," Shi protested. "Attacking directly is – "

"Shut it!" The irate one turned her attention to the vassals instead. "You two, kill her! Even if she only has a couple of weak sekirei, she's an ally of the Ashikabi of the North!"

The subordinate fighters were timid, pitiful things, and their reluctance to strike was plain. Uzume stopped them with a raised arm. "Don't move," she ordered, never taking her eyes off Hanako. "You... Is this some kind of joke?"

"Nope, no joke." The gatekeeper made a show of rummaging in her trouser pockets. "Got a light?"

Homura tensed.

"I thought you hated smoking."

"Ah, well... Being an ashikabi is stressful, you know? I'm picking up all kinds of bad habits."

_Being a sekirei is stressful too,_ thought Homura. _You've done your part, now get out of there!_

The incongruous banter only made Sai angrier. "You cowards! If you won't do as Master says – "

Then the opening salvo began. A sake bottle, plugged with a burning rag, arced over the roof of Izumo House and plummeted into the space between the buildings. It struck in front of Oriha and Katsuragi, covering the street in globs of gasoline mixed with dish soap. Ravenous flame and choking smoke sprang up at once, cutting the duo off from the rest of their party. Sai lunged toward the gate, narrowly outrunning a direct hit from the second incoming bottle.

"Tch..!" Homura drew back her hand, a ball of her own fire appearing at the unspoken summons, but Uzume moved even faster than she. The bolts of cloth surrounding the veiled sekirei darted sideways, intercepting Sai's blades.

"Ah," said Katsuragi. "Number Six is up there."

Homura bared her teeth and flung the ball at the nearest sekirei. Katsuragi jumped away, landing with one palm on the pavement. Against a ranged opponent on high ground, the jumpsuit-clad contact distance fighter was at a disadvantage. Unfortunately for her partner, Homura hadn't forgotten Oriha's weakness: "Snake fire!"

"Yeeeeeeeek!" Oriha backpedaled, flailing the bladed discs she had been poised to launch. "Not this agaaaaaain!"

Up the street, Shi was also panicking. "Sacchan? I can't see through the smoke, are you all right? Should I come in?"

As Oriha fled in disarray, Katsuragi straightened. "You can't beat me," warned Homura, readying another fireball.

"I know." It seemed the quiet girl was resigned to her fate. "But it's Master's order, so... Number Eighty-Six, Katsuragi, is your opponent."

_As you wish._ Homura threw to the left, driving Katsuragi closer to the smoke cloud. Just before the fighter touched the ground again, the fire sekirei heard the _thwap_ of a recurve bow at her back. Katsuragi froze, staring at the carbon fiber shaft lodged in the pavement between her knees.

A new voice rang out from the roof of Izumo House, clear and precise. "That is my only warning to you. Number Thirty-Six, Karen, will not permit those of evil intent to trespass here."

Amidst the confusion, Homura hazarded a brief look in the direction of the archer's ashikabi. She was standing in front of the gate as before, hands on hips, watching Uzume finish rolling up Sai in her weaponized fabric. The vassal pairs had wisely retreated to the far side of the street. In the background, Shi barely had time for one final cry before she was removed from a fight she never got a chance to take part in.

Katsuragi still hadn't moved. It was not readily apparent whether she was trying to think of a maneuver that wouldn't end with an arrow through her heart, or waiting for teammates to take the heat off her. Homura dropped to street level, intent on preventing the latter. Exploiting Oriha's fear of snakes wouldn't work after the initial shock wore off: now it was dancing time, as a certain ashikabi liked to say. The flame wielder cast out a barrage of small charges, forcing her target to dodge and denying any openings to retaliate. Oriha tried to slip one of her weapons through the hail, but Homura deflected it with a concerted attack.

"Aiyah," exclaimed Hanako dramatically. "Landlady-sama, when did you get back?"

With those words, the skirmish was over. Katsuragi bolted, not waiting to find out whether it was a bluff, and Oriha vacillated for a fleeting instant before following the brawler's example. Homura let them go, torn between relief at retaining the upper hand and resentment at leaving her personal business unfinished.

The cold hiss of a fire extinguisher made her put those thoughts aside. "That should do it," said Hanako, spraying a little more onto the smoldering residue. "Watch the glass."

Homura leaped over the remains of the incendiary bottle, alighting at the human's side. "I could have ended it," she complained. "I only needed a little longer."

"You could have," agreed the gatekeeper, "but then there wouldn't be anyone left to run home and tell Higa how he lost so many _assets."_

While the fire sekirei understood the woman's motives, letting such information reach their enemy might be reckless given recent events. This wasn't the moment to argue, however. "I'll put out the other one," she offered, holding out her hands.

"Ah, sure. Go ahead."

As suspected, the announcement of Miya's return was a ruse. Uzume had meanwhile terminated Sai without fanfare and corralled her erstwhile escorts, the cannon fodder. So far as Homura could see, Izumo House remained undamaged. Now she did her part to keep it that way, holding the extinguisher nozzle low to the ground as she smothered the roots of the second dark cloud beneath a stream of yellow powder.

The fire died quickly, and with it some of the unease inside her was lifted. She was learning to hate this weapon as much as the gatekeeper advocated for it – a stinking, impure flame, born of foul chemicals and human machination, consuming whatever it touched without respect for the will of a being such as herself.

An unnatural draft cleared away the lingering smoke. "So many wretched children are coming to us lately," Kazehana sighed, gathering Shi's limp form in her arms. "A sour wind blows from the east."

"Ain't that the truth." Hanako zeroed on the captured ashikabi. "Lessee... Baseball cap and a nose ring, 'Born to Thrill' tattoo on the back of the right hand – Nanao and Okajima, right?" She folded her arms. "What did the rich bastard offer you for this job? Protection, a way out of the game? Don't say it was money."

"He said he could get us out," Okajima blurted, choosing to spill his guts rather than have them spilled for him. "He told us the Ashikabi of the North was going to start exterminating everyone else..."

"And you fell for it." The gatekeeper shook her head. "Whatever... You want out? Fine. There's the road. Leave the girls and get lost."

It appeared Okajima had a problem with that last part, even if the prospect of trying to fight his way past a pair of single-digits obviously terrified him. Not so for Nanao, who gave his gymnast a push that sent her stumbling forwards. The sekirei's whimpering and pleading looks met only stony silence: Nanao kept his face turned down, hiding his eyes behind the bill of his cap.

Homura wanted to reach out and reduce the man to ash on the spot. Her comrades were almost certainly entertaining similar ideas after seeing the cornered ashikabi jettison his partner in the most callous way imaginable. Pushing through to the center of the gathering, she pressed her hand against the girl's back. "These are the flames of my pledge, burn the karma of my ashikabi."

The gymnast shivered and sank to the ground. All eyes turned to Okajima. "Why?" he pleaded. "Akagi-chan is all I have. Why do I have to give her up?"

"Because you're shark bait," said Hanako flatly. "If you keep her, you're still in the game. If you're still in the game, you're on your own." She made a sweeping motion towards the right end of the street. "Well, if you want to take that chance, I won't stop you."

Okajima goggled at her. "What? But you just said – "

"If you want to get out of the Sekirei Plan, you have to give up your sekirei. That's MBI's rule, not mine... Personally I'd rather terminate your participation anyway, on grounds of being a security risk, but the Ashikabi of the North has a soft spot for hard luck cases and I have to respect that." Again Hanako placed her hands on her hips. "So be sure to say something nice if anyone asks about him."

"I will... I will! I'll tell everyone!" The promise given, Okajima grabbed Akagi's hand and ran, never looking back.

Nanao had somehow missed his cue to quietly slink away. "What are you still doing here?" the gatekeeper snapped. "Go. Scram. Fucking _vanish."_

And he did. "We're not going to punish him?" asked Kazehana, watching the coward's back recede.

"Not worth making a mess." Hanako pulled out her smartphone. "Eight minutes and forty-one seconds since they tripped the early warning system," she noted clinically. "That's a wrap. Well done, all of you."

The dominant feeling among the sekirei around her was more one of awkward relief than joy. Kazehana took it upon herself to dispel the tension. "Welcome home, Uzume."

"Yeah..." The veiled girl broke into a sheepish grin. "I'm home."

Homura was going to add her own sentiments when she heard a clatter from above and an apocalyptic vision of dislodged tiles falling from the roof flashed before her eyes. "Hana-nee!" a boisterous voice called. "Did I do good?"

"You were great, Nambu. Karen, you too." Hanako's voice dropped to a mutter as she dialed a call. "Only a couple of weak sekirei, my overqualified ass... Minato-kun, where are you? All right, hold on." She pulled the phone away from her head momentarily. "They're already at MBI, no losses. Hidaka-san was just taken into intensive care... Minato-kun, is your mom there? Could I talk to her real quick? Thanks... Takami-kun? Any news on you-know-what?" The ashikabi's face hardened. "I see... No, I'll speak with Matsu when she gets back. Thanks anyway... Yeah, we'll manage. I'm going to hand the phone over to Uzume now, okay? Need to clean up some broken glass before the landlady comes home."

As soon as the device was out of her hand, she made a beeline for the house's entrance. Homura followed instinctively, dropping the fire extinguisher by the gate as she passed. Then Nambu's compact frame landed on the path in front of them. "We're gonna have a party," the tawny fighter gushed, "since we got Uzu-nee back, right?"

Hanako smiled for what might be the first time all day. "I think we earned that much."

"Yahoo!" Nambu held up her right hand, wrapped in the cords of her throwing sling. "Sisfist!"

The gatekeeper bumped knuckles, but her look of happiness waned. "Red and Blue are coming to pick up the fallen. Could you get the cookies from yesterday's batch and put them in a bag for me?"

"You're giving them all to Planks and Stabby?" Nambu pouted. "You'll make more, right?"

"Of course I'll make more. Go on, now."

The tomboy scurried ahead as they went inside, and Homura found the ensuing silence oppressive. "Bribing the Disciplinary Squad with sweets," she remarked, trying to force some levity into the atmosphere. "Whether that's insane or brilliant, I don't know."

"Brilliant." All of Hanako's humor was gone. "Say it's brilliant. I think you and I might be the only sane ones left here."

So much for levity. "I take it Takami-san gave you bad news."

"Probably bad. As far as MBI knows, it wasn't Higa who torched my apartment and killed those other ashikabi."

"Not Higa? But we already ruled out Mikogami and Sanada."

"Exactly." Hanako took off the helmet, shaking out the remnants of what were once flowing locks. "So we're back to square one on that front... What am I looking for?"

"Dustpans and buckets?"

"Yeah, those." She stopped in the middle of the hallway, so abrupt that Homura nearly walked into her back. "Would it be better if I moved out?"

The non sequitur left Homura fumbling for context. "You've only just moved in."

"Don't pretend you're fine with this. I know you don't like sharing your room, and I know Nambu drives you up the wall. I can pitch a tent in the back of the Toyota and park somewhere different every night – "

Now the fire sekirei understood where this was going. "No," she said firmly, trying not to sound hypocritical in light of the caper they'd just pulled off. "I can't let you put yourself in danger."

"I'm touched, I really am." Hanako turned around. "But as your _unwanted_ ashikabi, I think you should stop worrying about me and spend more time with Minato."

"Is that an order?"

"It's a request."

No amount of host club charm could dissuade her when she was like this. Even so, it wasn't wise to leave such feelings pent up where they might poison the celebratory mood later. "I didn't realize our situation was bothering you so much."

"Got to keep the morale up... I know, I know, I should be happy right now. I just don't know what to be happy about."

Such was the root of the problem. To the sekirei and Minato, what they'd accomplished today was an unequivocal double victory. To Hanako, it was merely buying time ahead of the next nerve-wracking sortie. Homura reached for a cigarette, remembering too late that she didn't smoke anymore. Instead her fingers started to play with the unfastened top buttons of her shirt as she weighed her next words. "Everyone is coming back safely," she pointed out. "Isn't that something to be glad for?"

"It's something." Hanako shrugged, as though shedding her malaise with a physical motion. "All right, you win. What the hell, I could use a night off." She began to walk once more, throwing a glance back over her shoulder. "But I do want you to consider my request seriously."

Homura arched an eyebrow. "If Tsukiumi finds out you told her rival to cheat on you with her lawful husband – "

"She'll blast me through the wall and never let me sit at the same table again," Hanako deadpanned. "Oh, and don't let me forget to ask Uzume about the quality of Higa's information. I thought by now he'd know who winged you."

"Mmf." The one who had been winged felt a sudden compulsion to shift the subject matter away from herself. "What happens next?"

"If we're lucky, Minaka won't start the next match right away and today's encounter will force Higa to keep his head down for a while... Is this the right cabinet? Nope... Assuming Minato is okay with it, I want Matsu to investigate the apartment fire and the suspicious deaths again. There's got to be a clue we've missed... We really need to do something about the Ashikabi of the North's bad PR as well. At this point Higa could say Minato reenacted the Potemkin Stairs massacre and people would believe – son of a _bitch!_ Why didn't I think of that sooner!?"

"Think of... what?"

"Potemkin! That's it!" Hanako balled up a fist and slammed it into an open palm. "That's how we'll counterattack!"

"You've lost me," Homura groaned. "Is this good or bad?"

"It's... No, I'll wait until everyone is here." Finally the gatekeeper found what she'd come for. "Here we go. One for you and one for me."

The sekirei of fire accepted the dustpan, falling in as Hanako reversed course. For some reason she found her thoughts gravitating back to the question of her ashikabi's residency. "I suppose it's my own fault we ended up like this," she mused aloud. "My punishment for rejecting Sahashi when I reacted to him."

"It's nobody's fault but mine." Hanako's conviction was absolute. "Remember my promise and be strong."


	2. Headfirst into Danger

**Author's note:** I went ahead and bumped up the story's rating, more for future content than for the brief nudity in this chapter.

* * *

_Act 1: Headfirst into Danger_

Karen's day was not going well.

She had set out in the morning, as she usually did when the weather was good, to explore the city and meet her fated partner. As with her past excursions, success in the former task was equaled only by failure in the latter. When noon arrived, she found a comfortable vantage point on a quiet rooftop and stopped to evaluate her lack of progress.

With so many people in this metropolis, how could finding a suitable individual be so hard? Other sekirei were getting their wings all around her and yet she'd never once felt the anticipated reaction, no matter how much she searched high and low. It wouldn't be long before the unwinged became a vanishing minority, and she feared that being one of the last would leave her at a disadvantage against the early starters who had gotten extra time to accrue experience.

She was considering her next move when the twins showed up.

Karen's protestations of disinterest in battling them earned merely condescension and scorn, and with scant warning she was forced to give up reflecting on her life in order to preserve it. Two problems were soon made clear to her. First: the opponents' costumes, while inappropriate within the norms of human society, offered superior mobility compared to her own clothes. Second: faced with their tandem lightning attacks, gaining enough space to ready and aim her bow was nearly impossible.

Fight turned to flight, Karen struggling to retain her narrow lead as she and the twins sprang from roof to roof. Streets flashed by, filled with bystanders unaware of the furious pursuit unfolding over their heads. The archer zigzagged north, making for a part of the city she had already scouted. It was less populated, and the plan of escape coalescing in her mind required her to find an empty area without delay.

Just like she hoped, the crowds thinned out as her route took her over backstreets and alleys. A few jumps more and then Karen made her bid to break off the chase. The sekirei leaped, landed, jinked sharply to the right and dropped, ping-ponging off a fire escape on the way down. She hit the ground running, turboed to the intersection ahead, and swung a hard left at the corner.

It might have worked if there hadn't been a person coming the other way.

* * *

Hanako had never believed in such things as fate or destiny, but lately it felt as if some power out there was screwing with her.

Today that feeling was especially strong: she'd gotten out of bed with the dark cloud of the 'Miki crisis' looming over her head, and then a speeding delivery truck nearly ran her down at a crossing. Wits frazzled by the brush with death, she went on to flub both of her morning job interviews. In a final frustration, the place she planned to buy lunch from turned out to be unexpectedly closed.

So it was that she found herself plodding home on an empty stomach, with time to kill and no good way to let off steam. Just when a punching bag was beginning to seem like a solid investment, she heard the clang of a heavy impact against something metal not far away. That sounded like trouble, and trouble meant somebody might require assistance. She picked up her pace as she came to the corner of the next crossroads, looking around to see whether anyone else had noticed the disturbance.

The whole thing might not have happened if she'd paid more attention to where she was going.

A figure whipped around the corner, charging straight at Hanako. The first jolt of alarm was still making its way along her synapses as the stranger, reacting in a heartbeat, tried to change course. It was already too late. Hanako felt a hard blow to the left side of her face and upper body, simultaneous with a jabbing pain inside her mouth. The off-center strike caused her to twist as she fell backwards. She landed on her side, air rushing out of her lungs as the sidewalk put a sudden end to her descent.

As she lay there, trying to get her wind back, her vision cleared enough to get a look at the person who knocked her down. The girl was on her hands and knees – one hand, rather, since the other was protectively clutching a bow across her chest. The first thing that stood out to Hanako was her style of dress: a traditional archer's uniform, comprising a short-sleeved white top and baggy red pants, accessorized with a leather breast guard, a loaded quiver, and a glove and forearm protector. The bow was of modern multi-piece construction, however, and its owner appeared to be wearing sneakers.

The stranger's head turned towards Hanako, allowing the toppled woman to focus on her face. In contrast to her Japanese costume, the other half of the ballistic encounter had European features. Icy eyes under thin, sharply defined brows gave a serious impression, and something about the shape of the nose and cheeks called to mind images of a bird of prey. Her chocolate hair was drawn into a ponytail high off the back of the neck, leaving the short bangs free.

Just now she was probing the inside of her mouth, assessing whatever damage the collision had done to her. Hanako was on the verge, purely pro forma, of asking whether she was all right when the tip of the girl's tongue pushed out between her lips. The archer stiffened, making a noise like a strangled gasp, and spectral wings erupted from her back.

The incorporeal shapes were not actually wings, Hanako realized after a moment of total confusion, but more like silhouettes of long white feathers arranged to suggest the shape of wings. It was a spectacle at once beautiful and bizarre, and it captivated her wholly until the light subsided. Only then did she push herself into a sitting position, intending to demand precisely what the hell just happened. The words died in her throat as she saw they were no longer alone.

The pair standing at the corner were identical twins, for some reason differing solely in bust size. They had long black hair, cut in a deliberately jagged style, and wore what Hanako could only describe as bondage outfits, one in deep violet and one in a warmer magenta shade. Looking from them to the archer girl and back again, she put two and two together and acted on the obvious conclusion.

* * *

Karen's thoughts were a maelstrom, whirling around a single indisputable fact: she had been winged by a total stranger. The training to prepare her for this cherished meeting was all for nothing, her dreams dashed faster than the blink of an eye.

The ashikabi – now _her_ ashikabi – was a tall, dark-eyed woman in a gray suit and tie. As she got up, tangled hair failing about her shoulders, the sekirei saw blood at the corner of her mouth. She didn't seem to be aware of the injury, though, and her attention was fixed on something behind Karen. Following the line of her gaze, the archer discovered her relentless enemies had caught up at last.

Their sadistic glee turned to consternation. "Did we cause that?" wondered the violet one.

Her less endowed sister nodded, taking on a weary expression. "We totally caused that."

"Dammit..." The violent violet gritted her teeth. "Why does it turn out this way even when _that guy_ doesn't show up?"

The twins had declared at the outset that they were only interested in fighting unwinged sekirei, which theoretically meant Karen was safe now. The ashikabi had other ideas: "Can you walk?" she asked in a hard, alien voice, sidestepping so that she was between hunter and hunted.

"I... yes." Karen scrambled to her feet, inwardly cursing herself for letting her guard down.

"Get out of here and go to the police."

The archer's eyes widened in horror. This person didn't understand the situation at all! "No... No, you – "

_"Go."_ The ashikabi pulled back the right side of her coat, exposing a large flashlight which hung from a loop on her belt. Its metal body was wrapped in bands of friction tape below the head. Drawing the light from its carrying place, she gripped it by the taped part as if wielding a club. "You'll be in the way."

The twins stared at her, dumbfounded. "Are you an idiot?" sputtered Violet. "Fighting us with something like that, you'll definitely die!"

Karen agreed. Going forward, she grasped her newfound ally's sleeve before the woman could give a retort. "She is right," the sekirei pleaded. "This is – "

Again the interrupter was herself interrupted: a fifth party joined the confrontation, dropping onto the sidewalk from the roof above. "I can't take my eyes off you for a minute," he complained, his tone soft but laced with irritation. "Don't you ever stop bothering people?"

That slender figure, ashen-haired and dressed all in black, was unknown to Karen. Her chasers, conversely, regarded him with familiar dislike. "You're one to talk, Homura," snapped the violet twin. "Always following us around, interfering in our fights!"

"Don't act like you're the victims here," the man retorted. He raised a gloved hand and a dancing flame appeared in his palm. "If you're bored, I'll play with you."

The magenta twin lifted her own hands in placation. "It doesn't matter," she told him. "That one got her wings, so we're leaving. Right, Hikari?"

"Rrrrrgh..."

The interloper glanced toward Karen, revealing that the lower half of his face was masked. "That's your ashikabi?"

"Yes." What else was there to say?

"Take her away from here. I'll deal with these two."

Magenta glowered at him. "I told you, we were about to leave anyway..."

Taking the granted opportunity, Karen hurriedly pulled her companion in the opposite direction.

* * *

Hanako went with the flow for as long as she could stand, which was about two minutes. "Okay, _stop,"_ she ordered, jerking her arm out of the archer's hand. "You've got some explaining to do."

To her credit, the strange girl didn't evade the matter. "I know."

"Good." Hanako folded her arms. "Who are you, who were those weirdos, who was that other weirdo, and what were those things coming out of your back?"

"I..." The girl broke off, throwing furtive looks to either side, and Hanako belatedly remembered that they were not the only pedestrians on this other street. "I cannot speak of it here. We must go to a private place."

She offered no suggestion as to where that place might be, an omission which didn't improve the foreboding feeling in Hanako's gut. "How about we go our separate ways and pretend this didn't happen instead?"

The reply soundly nixed that option: "Unacceptable. We absolutely cannot be separated."

"Great..." Tempted as she was to just bug out and call it even, Hanako doubted she could outrun her shadow. In any case, responsibility wouldn't allow it and curiosity demanded satisfaction. "Fine," she said curtly, turning on her heel. "But don't try anything funny."

The girl kept pace perfectly. "I will not."

As foreign as she looked, she spoke Japanese like a native. Another layer to the enigma. "So what do I call you?"

"My name is Karen. I am Number Thirty-Six."

"Lovely... Hanako Hanlon, like the razor." She turned right. "My apartment's this way."

They walked in silence for a minute. The laceration on the inside of Hanako's lower lip was swollen and smarting, but the bleeding had stopped and her teeth were all where they should be. Thank goodness for small mercies.

"Hanako-sama," said Karen suddenly. "I do not wish to be rude, but I am curious... Are you perhaps from Okinawa? Your way of speaking is different than the others I have heard here."

"Pretty sure they don't talk like this even in Okinawa," the woman replied dryly. "And no, I'm from Detroit." There was an awkward pause. "Detroit, Michigan? Motor City? _Robocop?"_

"I do not know it."

"No kidding." Hanako let the ignorance of geography slide for now. "Are you always so formal?"

"It is how I was instructed to behave. Is this not appropriate?"

"Eh..." Hard to argue against such earnestness. "I guess it's okay."

* * *

"Well, here we are." Hanako kicked off her shoes and carelessly pushed them over against the wall. "Sorry about the mess."

Karen didn't find the apartment messy at all, but why was it so full of gaps? Gaps on the living room floor where little depressions in the off-white carpet outlined missing furniture. Gaps on the kitchenette counter where a few lonely appliances were haphazardly arrayed. Gaps on the hardwood shelves where rows of books and DVD cases had fallen sideways against one another.

Her ashikabi was rummaging around in the refrigerator by the time she finished removing her own footwear. "You want a beer?"

"I do not drink."

"Good," said Hanako sourly, swinging the door shut. "I forgot, she took those too."

"Who?"

"Miki." Hanako dropped herself onto the dismally colored sofa, that being the only article left to sit on. She had a look on her face like she'd swallowed something bitter. "My backstabbing roommate."

Joining her in the main room, the archer slipped off her quiver and rested it against the end of the sofa. She retained the bow, laying it across her knees as she sat down. "What happened?"

"Ah-ah." The taller woman shook her head. "You first."

"Of course..." Karen took a moment to steady her nerves. It was bad enough that she made a poor first impression and carelessly insulted her ashikabi – on top of those errors, she was certain her partner would not like what she was about to say. "To answer your first question, I am a sekirei."

"You're a wagtail? Like the bird?"

"That is the name that was given to us."

Hanako rubbed her forehead. "This better be good."

* * *

"Let me get this straight... You're a sekirei, which means you look human but you have special abilities."

"Yes."

"MBI, world leaders in biotechnology, raised more than a hundred of you. Now they've turned you loose in Tokyo to find compatible human partners, what you call ashikabi."

"Yes."

"Once you all have partners, you're supposed to fight each other in a battle royale until only one team is left."

"Yes."

"That light show after you did a stuka into my face means you and I are a team, and you need me to unlock your full power."

"Yes."

"I'm not the teammate you wanted."

"I did not say that."

"You said there's a reaction when you come near the right person," Hanako pressed. "You didn't feel it when you met me, did you?"

Karen averted her eyes. "That is not conclusive – "

"If you're trying to sugarcoat this for my sake, don't bother."

The archer seemed to sink into the cushions. "There was no reaction," she confessed. "It does not matter. The one who gave me wings is you."

"Wonderful." Hanako laced her fingers. "So what now?"

"I do not know if any of the male sekirei remain unwinged, but I will assist you if you wish to search for them."

There was a clear disparity in their respective priorities. "I don't want a male sekirei," the ashikabi told Karen bluntly. "I want to get us out of this."

"You cannot leave the Sekirei Plan unless I am terminated."

"I got that part, thanks." Hanako slouched forward on her elbows, feeling an urge to do something and yet not knowing what to do. "What's MBI's stake here? I know the founder is supposed to be some kind of maniac, but how does hosting a goddamn _cockfight_ help their bottom line?"

"The president is..." Karen bolted upright without warning. "Hanako-sama, do you have a telephone?"

"An old busted Samsung, why?"

A look of deep concern had broken through the sekirei's cold facade. "It is customary for the president to contact new ashikabi. He should have done so by now."

"Just a second." Hanako wiggled a scratched and smudged smartphone out of her pants pocket, using her thumb to smooth over the strip of cellophane tape which held one side of the casing together. "Power's on, signal's good. If he wanted to get in touch... Oh." Somebody _had_ wanted to, and tried seventeen times in the past half hour. As she stared at the list of missed call notifications, a salient detail lazily floated to the surface of her mind. _"Shit."_

"What is wrong?"

Hanako pulled up the system preferences. "I turned off the ringer when I was doing my interviews... There, fixed it." Dismissing the configuration screen, she balanced the device on her knee. "Am I supposed to call back or wait for him to try again?"

"I am not certain."

The words were barely out of her mouth when the phone lit up and the apartment was filled with bombastic marching music. "Speak of the devil," said Hanako. "It's a video call." Holding the gadget in front of her face, she tapped the green button rendered on its touchscreen.

There was a blast of noise and a man's grinning face appeared. His shock of white hair and thick-framed glasses were distinctive by themselves, but it was the absurdly large lapels on the cape that made his identity irrefutable: Minaka Hiroto, self-proclaimed genius and architect of a corporate global empire. _"You should always answer your phone,"_ he chided cheerfully. _"Otherwise you'll miss out on some really amazing stuff!"_

"The vibrate mode's broken," Hanako retorted. "This is about your 'Sekirei Plan' thing, right?"

_"Correct! Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on joining our grand game!"_

"Congratulate me?" She squinted at him. "You gotta be kidding."

_"Don't sell yourself short, Hanako-chan! Winging a sekirei proves you are a person with the potential to change the fate of the world!"_

"Can I change it so my rent is lower? ...No, scratch that. How the hell do you even know who I am?"

_"It's my business to know these things,"_ Minaka cackled. _"Don't forget, the Sekirei Plan is a secret! If you tell anyone about it, bad things will happen!"_

"Like anyone would believe me," Hanako muttered. "Listen, can I talk to someone who isn't high? We have a serious problem here."

The president pouted. _"I'll have you know performance enhancing substances only slow me down!"_ The transmitting camera's view of him was suddenly blocked. _"Wait! Takami-kun, I'm not finished!"_

Minaka was replaced by a woman in a lab coat, her left eye covered by a patch. Her hair was white as well, which was strange given she didn't look much over forty. _"What's the problem?"_

Karen cut in before Hanako was able to answer, leaning over so that she could see the screen. "Sahashi-sama, what happened to your eye?"

_"Never mind that. You were saying?"_

"Ah, yeah..." Hanako glanced at the sekirei sitting beside her, realizing too late that she didn't have a good way to say this delicately. "Karen got hitched to the wrong person. The winging, whatever you call it, it only happened because she ran into me when she was trying to get away from a couple of freaks."

_"I see."_ Takami, if that was her name, put a cigarette between her lips but didn't light it. _"You had mouth to mouth contact with Number Thirty-Six?"_

"Briefly, yeah."

_"Her wings came out?"_

"Yeah."

_"Were there any other humans around?"_

"No."

_"Then there's nothing I can do."_ The cigarette bobbed up and down. _"Who was chasing her?"_

"Twins in fetish gear. There was also a guy who showed up at the end, one of them called him Homura."

_"He arrived after the winging?"_

"That's right." Hanako squinted again. "You know these people?"

Takami ignored the question. _"How are you feeling, Karen?"_

"I am well, Sahashi-sama."

_"That's good. I know this isn't what you wanted, but make the most of it, okay?"_

"I will do my best," Karen assured her. "For my ashikabi's happiness."

The pledge satisfied Takami and alarmed Hanako at the same time. _"I have to get back to work,"_ the former announced. _"You be good to her, understand?"_ She ended the call without giving time for a reply. Hanako put down the phone and slumped against the sofa's back, staring at the far wall. Then she reached over and pinched her own arm.

"Hanako-sama, what are you doing?"

"Wondering if that truck hit me after all, and the rest of today was a very slow pre-death hallucination." She tucked away the Samsung. "I can't think of a smart way to express how fucked up this is."

Her evident lack of enthusiasm troubled Karen. "May I speak freely?"

Hanako shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Do you feel I am... not good enough?"

"Say what?"

"You are reluctant to fight," the archer elaborated, "even though you defended me without hesitating. Are you afraid I will fail you?"

Disparate priorities again. "You really want to do this, huh?"

Karen nodded. "I am a sekirei," she said resolutely. "To find my destined partner and fight for that person's sake is why I exist."

"And the fact that you're doing it because a rich loon gets a kick out of blood sport is fine by you?" Even as she spoke, Hanako knew she didn't want to hear the answer. "Forget it," she sighed, slipping off her coat as she left the sofa for the kitchenette once more. "I need time to think about this... But first I need to eat something. You hungry?"

"Yes."

"I should use up the dough from yesterday." Hanako stuck her nose in the fridge. "Is pizza fingers with peas and carrots okay?"

"I have never had that."

"Figures." Hanako rolled out the freezer drawer and removed a bag of vegetables. "Since you told me your life story, I guess it's my turn now."

"I would like to hear it."

Bits of green and orange cascaded into a small pot with a tinny clatter. "It's not that interesting, but whatever... I'm twenty-four years old, I was born and raised in Detroit, and I like pretty girls, violent movies and pepper jack on crackers." Hanako filled the pot at the sink and set it on one of the stove top's smaller electric coils. "I'm a third generation Japanese-American. My dad's a cop and my mom's a photographer."

Karen was hanging on every word. "Please, continue."

Her ashikabi switched on the stove and set the preheat for the oven, hands on autopilot as she kept talking. "I graduated from the University of Michigan two years ago with a bachelor's in film studies. Getting a job on that turned out to be harder than I thought." Hanako pulled a baking pan from the cupboard next to the sink. "So I went with Plan B: go to Japan and teach English."

"Why did you choose that?"

"I figured it was an easy way to check out the family roots, maybe make some money on the side. My grandparents spoke the old language at home even after they emigrated, so Mom learned it growing up and passed it on to me." After dripping a bright yellow oil onto the pan, she spread it into an even coat. "I had all the looks and none of the culture, but that was enough. Landed a spot at a high school in Nagoya."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"It was okay." Hanako adjourned her narrative while she washed and dried her hands. "I got downsized a few months ago," she continued, taking a plastic-wrapped dough ball from the refrigerator. "They called it a consolidation, but really it was a simple layoff. After that Miki and I decided to come to Tokyo and try our luck here."

"Who is Miki?"

"She was a phys ed instructor. I thought she was my friend." Hanako scowled at the soft stuff in her hands as she pulled it apart. "We rented this apartment together, and she found a new employer pretty quick. The best I got was out of school tutoring, weeknights and weekends. It was enough to stay on top of the bills... Then Miki got a boyfriend and it all went to hell."

"What do you mean?"

"She skipped out on me the day before yesterday. I came home to find the place like you see it, and the neighbors said they'd seen her and some guy carrying stuff out." Fingers with short nails pressed down the dough along the pan's lip. "She took my booze, my coffee maker, the rice cooker I paid for half of, helped herself to my books, my movies... The landlady just shrugged and told me to find another roommate by the end of the month."

"As your sekirei, I am expected to live with you," Karen pointed out. "Would I be an acceptable replacement?"

"I'm tempted to give it a shot, but I can't pay rent for both of us." Hanako assembled a plate, a grater, and a brick of mozzarella. "Even if I could, you'd still need references."

Karen rose, taking something from a hidden pocket. "The rent is not a problem," she stated. "I can pay with this."

'This' was a plastic rectangle with _MBI MEMBERS CARD_ printed across the front in block letters. Hanako raised an eyebrow. "That for real?"

"It is completely real." Karen frowned thoughtfully. "Would it be inappropriate to give Sahashi-sama as a reference?"

"I dunno," said Hanako, resuming her grating. "Who is she, anyway?"

"Sahashi-sama is MBI's head of research and overseer of the Sekirei Plan."

"Yeaaah... That might lead to some awkward questions. Anyone else?"

"If she is not suitable, the others will not be either."

"Hm." Hanako shook the last cheese shavings out of the grater and put it in the sink. "With a VIP card, maybe the landlady won't care." A thought occurred to her as she got out the sauce jar. "By the way, where have you been staying up until now?"

"I rented rooms in various hotels."

"Uh-huh." Cutlery rattled in an open drawer. "I have to go out for work later," the ashikabi remarked, taking out a spoon. "Is there anything you need to pick up?"

"No. I have all my possessions here with me."

"All right... This will be done in about fifteen minutes. Take a seat and I'll set the table."

* * *

'Setting the table' proved to be a figure of speech, since the malefactor Miki had absconded with that item. In its absence, sekirei and ashikabi balanced their plates on their hands and ate their lunch on the sofa.

Hanako's 'pizza fingers' was a sort of flat bread with herb-infused tomato sauce and shredded cheese on top, this being baked, cut into strips and eaten by hand. It was a radical departure from Karen's habitual diet, though she could not say it was unsatisfying. Hanako herself deprecatingly called it 'collegiate cooking' and rapidly scarfed her share before attacking the vegetables with a spoon. For that portion, Karen requested and received a humble set of wooden chopsticks – the only ones Miki hadn't stolen.

They talked more after the meal. While Hanako cleaned up, she told Karen a little more about Detroit, her university days, and her time in Nagoya. In turn, Karen recounted her journey across the city and her impressions of the people and places she found along the way. The mood lightened appreciably, and Karen felt genuine disappointment when Hanako had to leave.

Until she came back, the sekirei was advised to make use of her library. Most of the volumes were in English, which Karen could not read fluently, and dedicated to topics she never studied. There was no appliance for viewing the DVDs either, though their colorful cases provided several minutes' distraction as she parsed titles like _The Wild Bunch_, _The Terminator_ and _The Guns of Navarone_. Eventually she tired of it, so she pushed _Rambo III_ back into place and took down a Japanese book about somebody named Eisenstein.

* * *

Hanako's evening was perfectly, boringly normal. She kept her mind on her work and worked through her students' lessons without incident. Only after, as she walked home with a carton of Chinese takeout in each hand, did she let herself contemplate her position. The whole thing was incredible, and not in a good way. A part of her still wanted to believe it was all an elaborate trick, but those odds felt slim after what she'd seen Karen and Homura do. That left her with one pressing question: what now?

Her simplest option, taking the easy way out by arranging for Karen to suffer a quick defeat, was off the table for good. It would be a cold day in hell when Hanako abused the girl's trust like that, never mind the subsequent obligation to hand her over to MBI. What else, then? Running and hiding from the corporation seemed unfeasible given what she knew about the extent of its reach, and she couldn't predict Minaka's reaction to an escape attempt. Suppose she went along with it, played her allotted part in his sick charade? Whichever way she looked at it, Team Hanlon's chances of surviving until the finish were marginal at best.

She needed more data – the abilities of the other hundred and seven sekirei, the personalities of the dozens of ashikabi who winged them, and the exact mechanics of the Sekirei Plan would be good to start with. But how to get that information? Would Karen know?

Hanako held on to that thought as she climbed the three flights of stairs to her apartment and juggled dinner while she let herself in. "I'm back," she called, bumping the front door closed with her elbow. "Everything okay?"

"Yes." Karen neatly closed her book and slid it back into its place. "Is your wound better?"

"It's getting there." Hanako set the cartons on the counter. "I'm gonna eat and hit the sack," she warned her guest. "I get up pretty early."

Dinner was a quiet affair, save for the copious slurping of noodles. Hanako finished first, and took a few minutes to jot down a to-do list as Karen caught up. The sekirei's belongings, packed into a bundle and strapped to the bottom of her quiver, consisted of one set of spare clothes, a comb, a toothbrush, a bar of soap, and a handful of like necessities. Hanako's initial priorities, then, were to settle with the landlady, restock the refrigerator, and get her companion a more practical and less conspicuous wardrobe. She had just one student to visit tomorrow, and normally this would be her opening to hit up Crazy Ivan's at the end of the day. As much as she looked forward to it, that might have to wait.

"Karen," she said at last, twirling the pencil between her fingers, "is there a way I could learn more about the other players in the Sekirei Plan before we have to fight them?"

"I do not know." The archer raised a cluster of noodles to her mouth, then let it down again. "Perhaps I do," she corrected herself. "I have heard of a place where sekirei live and fighting is forbidden."

"Meaning it might be safe to try and make contact there? Do you know where it is?"

"Not precisely, but I believe I know where to search for it."

"Worth a try." Hanako added that to her list. "What's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

Until now, the bedroom remained an uncharted territory to Karen. Hanako had gone into it before she left, and again when she returned, but the sekirei had not approached its threshold. Her first glimpse came after the pair finished brushing their teeth. "I've only got one futon and blanket," said Hanako as she opened the inner door. "Either we share or someone has to sleep on the sofa."

While the rest of the apartment might be characterized by its dispersed gaps, this room was one big gap. There were no furnishings at all except for the futon laid out in one corner, with a desk lamp and a laptop computer on the bare floor beside it. More of Miki's work, Karen presumed. "What do you prefer?"

"I'm okay with sharing." Hanako switched on the lamp, emptied her pockets and doubled back to the closet at the nearer end. "You can do whatever's comfortable, I guess."

The words and the accompanying body language were too vague for Karen to clearly understand her ashikabi's wishes. Now more than ever, she needed certainty. "Do you want my company?"

"Wouldn't mind." Hanako unfolded a large white t-shirt and began shaking it out. "I haven't had a girl in my bed for three years. I'm starting to forget what it feels like."

"Then I will do my best to please you."

The shaking stopped. "...Eh?"

Karen shrank a little as Hanako turned to stare at her. "I was instructed on the assumption that my ashikabi would be male," she fumbled. "I am not sure how to conduct myself with a woman."

* * *

_Oh._

_**Oh.**_

Hanako could have kicked herself. "I was just talking about sleeping," she explained hastily. "I didn't mean I wanted you to... do that." Her brown eyes narrowed. "Are you _supposed_ to do that?"

Karen's cheeks were turning a color that would make tomatoes envious. "As your sekirei, it is my responsibility to answer your needs," she insisted, though a quaver at the end belied her projection of self-assurance.

"Not happening." Hanako gave the shirt an extra hard snap for emphasis. "I have rules about this stuff. One, I don't get physical on the first date. Two, I don't fool around with straight girls. Three, I don't do reluctant partners." She circled in front of Karen and flipped the switch for the overhead light, leaving the pair with only the diffuse glow of the floor lamp to guide them. "You're not offering sex because you like me, you're offering because you think you're obligated to put out."

"It does not matter."

"It _does_ matter, dammit!" The sekirei flinched and Hanako realized she was letting frustration stoke her temper. "It does," she continued in a lower tone. "You're not a doll, Karen. Your feelings matter. I don't want you doing anything you're uncomfortable with."

"But..."

For the time being, Hanako decided not to press further. This problem wouldn't be solved in a night. "I'm going to bed. If you want to stay with me, that's fine. If you don't, that's fine too."

Karen responded to decisiveness better than she had to the attempted encouragement. "I want to stay."

"Then come on." The ashikabi stood beside the futon and quickly stripped down to her panties. Fabric rustled behind her as she pulled on the t-shirt, and she turned to find the archer undressing as well. By this point it scarcely surprised Hanako that Karen's underwear combined a sports bra with a classical loincloth.

The sekirei herself seemed caught off guard by something. "Hanako-sama, what is that?"

She was looking at the shirt, the front of which hadn't been visible to her until now. With her sheltered upbringing, she might have never before seen such surreal imagery: potatoes bearing the heads of men, with a slogan – _oh, no! it's DEVO_ – splashed across the top. "It's my monster-proof shirt," said Hanako. "Uncle Gary gave it to me when I was little, told me it would scare away any nasties hiding under the bed." Bending over the futon, she set about sorting her discarded garments. "Those guys on the cover were in a band about forty years ago."

"They were musicians?"

"Yeah." Hanako gathered up the folded suit. "Well, they did a lot of electronic stuff and some people say that's not real music..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced at Karen just in time to catch the sekirei, now totally and perfectly nude, in the act of letting her hair down. "What are you doing?"

"You said to do whatever is comfortable." Karen let her arms fall at her sides, making no effort to cover herself. "Did I misunderstand?"

"Uh..." Hanako's train of thought departed from _don't look_ at full throttle and raced through _what the hell_ and _wow she's fit_ before violently derailing near _bet she's got a great ass_.

Karen's shoulders were broad, her arms showing muscles honed by hard practice with her chosen weapon. Her breasts were neither large nor little, well shaped and tipped with small pink nipples. Below them her ribs gave way to a taut belly. Her powerful shoulders lent her hips an illusory narrowness, in spite of their feminine curves. She had no hair down there, though Hanako didn't remember seeing a razor among her things. A killer pair of legs completed the ensemble, which taken all together made her ashikabi feel downright flabby in comparison.

"Hanako-sama?" Karen prompted anxiously. "Do you find my body displeasing?"

"Too pleasing." Hanako marched past her, threw the suit into the closet and yanked out a second t-shirt, black with _Darmok & Jalad – Live at Tanagra 9/30/1991_ printed in gold. "Put this on."

Karen did. It covered less than expected, the hem barely reaching her upper thighs, but it was good enough for tonight.

"That's better." Hanako lowered herself onto the futon and slid her legs under the blanket, making a space for Karen to lie at her right side.

The archer folded her uniform and laid it at the foot of the bedding. She started to climb aboard, but stopped halfway. "Hanako-sama, there is something I have neglected to do."

"What's that?"

Karen moved without reply, swinging a leg across the futon and rolling until she straddled Hanako's waist. Placing her hands on the older woman's upper arms, she pressed her lips against her ashikabi's mouth. Light flared at the edges of Hanako's vision and then the sekirei drew back, wings spreading over her shoulders. "My heart beats for you," she murmured. "Forever and ever."

It was all wrong. This ritual wasn't meant for Hanako, or for Minaka and MBI's cruel circus. Even as it kindled a half-forgotten warmth inside her, she knew she couldn't accept it. "No," she answered, countering the archer's promise with one of her own. "Until this is over."

* * *

Homura was between roofs when the phone in his pocket started buzzing. Landing nimbly, he secreted himself in shadow. "I'm here."

_"Sorry I didn't get in touch earlier."_ Takami sounded tired, and at this hour she was probably mainlining coffee and cigarettes to stay awake. _"Busy day at the office."_

The fire sekirei assumed she wasn't calling merely to chat. They'd met face to face just the other night, after all. "Did something happen with Number One-Oh-Seven?"

_"He's fine."_ She paused and Homura heard slurping on the line. _"You were late to a winging this afternoon."_

"Yes," Homura admitted. "I had to intervene in another incident and the twins gave me the slip. The one they were chasing reached her ashikabi before they could terminate her."

_"It wasn't her intended ashikabi,"_ Takami told him. _"The winging was caused by accidental contact."_

"Accidental? You're sure?"

_"That's what the ashikabi said, at least. I was upstairs when Minaka called to congratulate her. She wasn't happy about it."_

"I'm sorry."

_"I'm not blaming you."_ Papers rustled in the background. _"It's a complicated case. She's a foreign national."_

This, so far as Homura knew, was unprecedented. "Minaka's letting her take part in the plan?"

_"You know how he is,"_ Takami growled. _"He decided it would make the game more interesting."_

"Of course." The sekirei guardian's ruby eyes wandered over a restless city's lightscape as he digested the news. "Could she be a spy?"

_"If she is, she's covered her tracks better than the others. We haven't found anything."_

"Do you want me to keep an eye on her?"

_"No, I'll use Saki for that. You have enough to do already... Anyway, I thought I should warn you: our profile says this one is intelligent, with aggressive tendencies. And she knows your name."_

The implication was obvious. "I'll be careful," said Homura. "What about the sekirei?"

_"Number Thirty-Six? Stoic, very loyal. She seems to have accepted the situation."_

Takami was right to say it was complicated. An accidental winging, a foreigner, and on top of that... "How many female ashikabi are there now?"

_"Off the top of my head, this is the third,"_ the scientist replied. _"But don't get your hopes up. She's a lesbian."_

At that moment Homura was rather glad nobody could see his face. "I didn't mean I was interested," he muttered. "I'm not looking for an ashikabi."

_"Right... Well, I thought you should know about it. How's work?"_

"It's fine."

_"That's good."_ Takami broke off, failing to suppress a yawn. _"It's time I turned in. I'll let you know when One-Oh-Seven is ready to come out."_

"I'll be waiting."

The line went dead. Homura checked the time, flicked the phone shut and made ready to move. He had twenty minutes to finish his sweep, then dash back to change his clothes and get ready for the second shift at his real job. In an hour he would be sitting at a low table with a lonely lady, pouring her drinks and praising her taste in earrings. In two hours he might be lying between her legs on a hotel bed, connecting their bodies in a cynical parody of a relationship. What the customer wanted, Kagari delivered – especially for his middle-of-the-night clients.

It couldn't fill the gap in his heart any more than he could fill theirs.


End file.
